6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel Read online

  “Great job!” Danny would yell in their direction. “You’ll be hitting home runs in no time!”

  The front yard was large and more often than not strewn with various toys like softballs, makeshift soccer goals, and horseshoes. Jesse and Hunter were very active children and despite his chair-bound job, Danny made a point of encouraging outside play and participating in it himself. He was in the middle of making a big show of pitching the softball when Miranda called him from the front door.

  “Danny! Phone!”

  “Ok, thanks!”

  Danny handed the ball to Jesse as he headed for the door.

  “Throw this for your brother, ok? But underhand. And try not to hit him with it.”

  Danny took the phone from Miranda’s hand and put the receiver to his ear.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Danny. It’s Bill.”

  “Afternoon, Bill. What’s up?”

  “The clients looked over the website and they liked just about everything.”

  “Just about?”

  Danny walked into his office and took a seat in his swivel chair. He turned slowly in a circle as he listened to his current boss talk.

  “They didn’t think the school colors were prominent enough,” Bill explained.

  Danny winced. His most recent project was for a charter school that wanted to update its web presence. The first assignment was to redo its main website, but Danny hated the color scheme the school wanted: forest green and gold. He had put the school’s logo on the top of the page and kept the rest of the background a cream hue, but apparently the school wanted more.

  “What do they want instead?”

  “They weren’t specific.”

  “Naturally.”

  “I suggested some stuff, like having the tabs be green instead of black, maybe throwing in a gold font here and there.”

  “Ugh.”

  “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not, Danny.”

  “I know, I know, but anything other than simple black font tends to not look professional. Did you tell them that?”

  “Basically.”

  “Basically?”

  “Just play around with it a bit. Add more of the colors. Maybe they’ll hate it and go with the original design.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Danny hung up the phone and stared out the window. Their backyard stretched back about fifteen yards before the tree line. Green leaves shimmered as the breeze blew through them, branches bobbing and bowing. Danny loved the sound leaves made. He believed it was the most peaceful sound in the world, even better than music. It was like the trees whispered. Danny was a person who valued peace. Ever since he was little, he struggled with random panic attacks. Little things never seemed very little, and during the night when he couldn’t run from his thoughts, all those small problems built on each other like Lego pieces until he cowered in fear that they would collapse and crush him. The anxiety peaked during his second year of med school. He would get rashes and the skin on his hands cracked. That was when he dropped out and eloped with Miranda, giving up on his father’s dreams of having a doctor in the family. When Danny got up the courage to tell his dad what he had done, his father listened earnestly and then embraced his son.

  “You did what you thought was best. I just want you to be happy, son. I believe in you. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

  Knowing his father was proud of him no matter what reduced Danny’s anxiety ten-fold. He still took the meds, but only during particularly frustrating design projects, like when the client couldn’t make up their mind about anything or kept sending the design back with ridiculous requests. The charter school people seemed like folks who might be just those types. Danny opened his work site and fiddled around with colors for a few minutes, but he was not in the mood. He would come back to it. Danny stood and stretched. When he went back out the living room, he saw Marty crossing the street towards the house. His neighbor stopped to say something to the twins. Danny opened the door and called out to him.

  “Hey, Marty!” Danny said, raising his hand in greeting. “What brings you over?”

  “I got the wrong kind of flour in the store,” Marty admitted, indicating the paper bag in his arms. “The girls are going gluten-free now. I was wondering if you wanted to trade Miranda’s mix for what I got.”

  Marty lifted the bag to show Danny. Miranda was known for her cooking and baking skills, and had recently been selling her homemade gluten-free flour mixes, vanilla extracts, granolas, and whatever else she concocted. It was a great source of income as well as healthier stockpile options than what they could get in the stores. Danny took the flour bag from Marty and examined it.

  “Whole-wheat,” he said. “And a good brand.”

  “Yeah. And I can’t return it ‘cause Val opened it. I didn’t want to just toss it. Is it something you would like? Could use?”

  “For sure. For a trade, I won’t be able to give you the same amount in Miranda’s mix, ‘cause it costs more to make it and she doesn’t have a ton.”

  “Right, that’s ok.”

  “How does six loaves’ worth sound?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Danny led the way and the two men went into Danny’s stockpile room. One of the rules of prepping was to never let non-family members see your stockpile, but Marty was like a brother to Danny. They had been neighbors since they were both newlyweds, and had been there when the others’ children were born. Danny was Harper’s godfather, and Marty’s 26-year-old sister Tammy (who lived with Marty and Valerie) often babysat the boys. Danny knew he could trust Marty with his life.

  “Your stockpile is looking real good,” Marty remarked as they stood in the dimly-lit storeroom. “Going natural with a lot of it.”

  “Yeah. Miranda is into canning and extracting and all that. It’s really satisfying.”

  “I bet.”

  “How’s your stockpile?”

  “It’s good. I’ve been working on making more space for water, since that’s tricky to store in large amounts, y’know? I’m thinking of making something underground, like a trap door situation.”

  Danny found the jar he was looking for. The flour was kept in a large glass container, one of those old-fashioned kinds with the knobby top, and labeled with masking tape.

  “You can take the jar, too,” Danny offered. “We’ve got lots.”

  “Thanks! You’re a real pal.”

  Danny walked Marty back to the door and waved at him as he crossed the street. Hunter and Jesse were still running around outside, chasing each other with pool noodles they used as swords. They had seen them in the store and insisted on having one each; despite the fact the family did not have a pool. Danny watched them for a few moments, smiling, before returning indoors. He needed a sandwich. While Danny spread mayonnaise on Miranda’s homemade pumpernickel bread and hummed, the Buckley’s home shook up from its foundations to its roof. Six hours had been triggered.

  2.

  “Hey, hon? Did you see the forecast for today?”

  Danny looked up at his wife, mouth full of sandwich, and shook his head.

  “Really windy. Possible tornado warnings.”

  Miranda’s brow was furrowed. She sat beside Danny with the newspaper in her hand. She had recently painted her nails a pale sea-green and stretched her fingers out to avoid smudges.

  “It is a little breezy outside,” Danny remarked. “Doesn’t look too bad yet.”

  “Let’s just keep an eye on it.”

  The couple sat in silence while Miranda waited for her nails to dry and Danny finished his sandwich. As he chewed, he kept his ear perked, and sure enough, the wind was picking up. He took his plate to the sink and went to the front door. Jesse and Hunter were playing airplane, and had their arms stretched out to catch the wind, their hair flying back. Danny was startled by the strength of the wind and looked to the trees. Their branches were stretched out like
the boys’ arms, the leaves straining to keep hold. The sky was getting darker as well, especially in the north. Danny frowned at the swelling clouds.

  “Come inside, boys!” he called. “It’s too windy out here!”

  “Whee!” Jesse screamed. “Look, Dad! We’re flying!”

  “That’s great, man! Fly on inside, ok?”

  The boys circled in for a landing and then came running inside the house, making whooshing noises. Danny took another look at the trees before closing the door. He thought he could feel some faint drops of rain.

  “I’m going to look and see what the TV is saying, Miranda!” he called.

  “Ok!”

  Danny switched on the weather channel and rested his elbows against the back of the couch. He could hear Jesse and Hunter in the kitchen, chattering to their mom as she made them both sandwiches. The weatherman was pointing to a map of the country, showing strong winds and storms.

  “There was an earthquake on the Emerald Coast,” he added. “And sources down there hypothesize possible hurricanes or a tsunami as a result.”

  Danny’s heart skipped a beat. His sister was there. Fighting panic, Danny grabbed the landline off the wall and dialed her cell number. Nothing. She must not have reception. Danny hung up and dialed again. This time he called his mother’s number.

  “Mom? It’s me.”

  “Danny! I was just about to call you. Your sister is in a bit of trouble.”

  “A bit? Mom, there is an earthquake! They’re talking about a tsunami!”

  “Honey, calm down. I talked to her. She’s staying with a family. She has a car. I’m sure she has plenty of time to get to safety.”

  Danny squinted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His mother always did this. She glossed over the seriousness of a situation because she didn’t want Danny to have a panic attack. It was frustrating to be kept in the dark and treated like he was a fragile vase who would break at the slightest touch. When he was little and the family had to go to the basement or evacuate before a big storm, he never knew what was going on until afterwards. Being that ignorant scared Danny more than the truth ever could. It’s why he started researching and prepping on his own. He wanted to be aware of all the risks out there so he could be prepared. His mother didn’t quite understand, and saw Danny’s dedication to prepping as an obsession spawned by a fearful spirit.

  “You can’t stop bad things from happening, Danny,” she would say.

  “I know that!” Danny replied. “But that doesn’t mean I have to face them without any way to protect myself. Being prepared means staying alive. It means staying safe.”

  Danny didn’t say much else to his mother about the coast. She just reaffirmed her confidence in his sister and asked how things were where Danny was. Windy, he replied. Tornado risk. When he hung up, it had begun to rain harder. The rain blew sideways. The sun had disappeared.

  “We should get ready to move downstairs,” Danny told his family.

  “Is there a storm, Dad?” Hunter asked, widening his brown eyes.

  “Yep. A big one. Why don’t you go get your storm blanket from your room?”

  Hunter dashed off to the bedroom he and his brother shared and returned with a large camouflage fleece. Whenever there was a big storm and they had to take shelter in the basement, Hunter wrapped himself in his fleece to make himself feel more secure. He hated loud noises and the blanket helped muffle some of them. Jesse was not so sensitive, though he also had a blanket he kept in the basement. Danny liked to keep blankets in case they needed to protect themselves from flying debris, should the worst happen and a wall or the roof collapsed. Miranda gathered some water bottles, flashlights, and the battery-operated radio. She nodded at Danny.

  “Ready,” she said.

  “Should I bring some food down? Have you eaten?” Danny asked.

  “Good idea. Can you get some string cheese from the fridge? And one of the bananas?”

  Danny obeyed. With everyone ready, the family descended into the basement. The door was right by the storeroom, so Danny got a glimpse into his stockpile right before he went down the stairs. Just seeing his supplies made his heart settle into a normal, steady beat. They had done this many times before. The storm would pass, the wind would become calm, and everything would be all right. Just like always.

  Danny’s basement - next to his stockpile - was the fulfillment of his prepper dreams. He had bought the house in large part due to that basement. It was finished and had only one window, a little rectangle of glass, high up by the ceiling. He had also invested in building a small 3X6 shelter that was bolted to the concrete floor in case the situation got so bad, it was no longer even safe in the basement. It was just large enough to comfortably fit two small boys and a 110-pound woman, and uncomfortably squeeze in Danny, as well. The rest of the basement looked less like a tornado hide-out and more like a rec room, which was how Danny wanted it. There was a TV, a series of bean bag chairs, and a long-haired rug that the twins liked to roll on. They liked to pretend they were giving the rug a haircut with their fingers acting as scissors. When they were settled, the boys finished their sandwiches and got out the board games that Danny kept in the mini shelter. Stretching out on the rug like Bengal cats, they began setting up the Sorry! board. Danny turned on the TV and lowered the volume to not disturb the kids.

  “If you are seeing thunderstorms in your area, expect stronger winds and possible tornadoes,” the TV droned.

  “Weather reports are bull,” Danny exclaimed.

  “Dan,” Miranda said softly.

  “Sorry. It’s just that they give these really dull reports. People don’t know how serious stuff really is when they just state empty facts like that. What does that mean, “stronger winds?” They need to give people specifics.”

  “It’s kind of like your mom. She’s focused on not scaring anyone.”

  “That makes more sense, coming from Mom. But these are weather professionals. Government agencies. These guys are supposed to protect people. They could get a lot of people killed by not being thorough enough.”

  Miranda nodded, breaking off a piece of her banana and popping it into her mouth. She was used to Danny’s complaints about the efficiency of government agencies and education. That’s why he took the time to teach people himself from experience. Danny listened to the TV for a few more minutes, shaking his head.

  “Bull,” he repeated, this time in a softer tone so the boys wouldn’t hear. Outside, the wind kept getting stronger. If he looked up at the window, Danny could see the dark silhouettes of trees whipping around, clawing at the sky. TV footage of other areas showed signs slapping and bending, garbage flying through the air, and ripples of lightning on the horizon. Something wicked was coming.

  Danny and his family had been in the basement for about an hour when the TV announced funnel clouds being spotted in their area. The wind outside roared. Hunter wrapped himself in his blanket and sat between Danny’s knees, covering his ears. Danny put his hand on his son’s head.

  “It’s okay, buddy. You’re doing great.”

  The house began to shake. Danny and Miranda both looked up when they heard breaking glass and the rush of wind grew louder. The windows upstairs were getting smashed in. They glanced at each other. Danny could see the fear in Miranda’s eyes, but she had her jaw set. This wasn’t any worse than what they had experienced that first big storm, when it was just them. A few broken windows wasn’t a big deal. The ceiling light flickered.

  “Daddy?” Hunter whimpered.

  Jesse, who had been lying on the rug, muttering about how bored he was, became more agitated and ran over to his mother. Miranda pulled him into her lap and kissed the top of his head. After flickering for a few moments, the light went out, along with the TV, which shrunk into a pinpoint of white in the center of the screen before vanishing completely.

  “Power’s out,” Danny declared.

  Without the sound of the television, the noise from the storm became even more vi
olent. Everyone could hear thumping against the side of the house.

  “What is that?” Jesse asked. “What’s that noise?”

  “Branches or something, honey,” Miranda explained.

  With Hunter still hiding between his knees, Danny reached over to the radio and switched it on. The channel was fuzzy, but he could hear a man’s voice speaking.

  “Shh,” Danny said, even though no one was talking.

  They all listened intently. The man was describing what he was seeing, though his voice was barely discernible above the roar from wherever he was located.

  “Funnels!” he barked. “I see three! They’re getting closer! They’re going to touch down!”

  There was another voice, shouting something. The noise grew louder. Danny thought he could hear someone screaming, “Drive!” Danny realized with horror that they were listening to a tornado chaser, and he was about to be caught up in one of those funnels. With a jolt, Danny switched off the radio.

  “What was happening, Dad?” Jesse asked, half of his face buried in his mother’s neck.

  “Nothing, Jess,” Danny replied. “We lost the channel, is all.”

  Faced with the reality that his sons might have heard a man die, Danny understood why his mother would hide the truth from him. The shaking worsened. Hunter and Jesse both began to breathe faster, panic rising up in their eyes. Danny looked at the window in the corner and saw the pane quake. Before he could speak, it shattered, sprinkling glass across the room. Cold air rushed in, torn leaves and trash riding in on the wave. The noise was unbearable. It was the kind of noise that made all thought impossible. Even with his hands clapped over his ears so hard it hurt, the noise ripped through Danny’s brain like a shotgun. Hunter clung to his father’s knees, his face buried in Danny’s chest. Danny squeezed his elbows against Hunter’s ears and bent his head down so he felt his son’s hair on his face. Everything shook. They needed to get to the mini shelter.

  “Miranda! Shelter!” he shouted.